


inner city blues.

by mrspotatohead



Category: Archie Comics, Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Best Friends, Childhood Friends, Crying, Depression, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Family, Family Drama, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Heavy Angst, Homeless Jughead, Homelessness, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, One Shot, Protectiveness, Sad, Writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 04:21:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10235774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrspotatohead/pseuds/mrspotatohead
Summary: jughead is homeless and archie finds out.





	

It was unusually cold for spring, the air was thick with fog and the stars were just beginning to appear in the dusky, twilit sky.

Jughead approached the old bridge that he'd been sleeping under for the past two weeks with a feeling of tired reluctance, his hands already growing numb against the persistent and icy wind. He knew it wasn't exactly a perfect living arrangement, but he also knew he couldn't continue sleeping at the school. It was naive to think that he wouldn't get caught eventually if he kept it up. And besides, it wasn't like he was going to freeze to death or anything; it was simply just the way things were. It was temporary. He told himself every morning when he woke up that he'd figure something out, that he always did, but it was getting harder and harder to believe with every night he spent outside.

Sighing quietly to himself, he sat down in his usual spot and unceremoniously dumped his crammed backpack onto the ground next to him. He leaned back against the wall, making sure to keep one hand on his possessions, paranoid that some thug would come and steal all of his shit if he let his guard down. He didn't know what he'd do without his clothes and his phone and the picture of his mom and Jellybean that he kept tucked in a small pocket on the side of his bag. They were what was getting him through the sleepless nights, the desperate hunger pangs and the dreadful feeling of loneliness that was constantly hanging over him.

He missed them so much that sometimes it felt like he would bleed to death with the pain of it, and yet sometimes he felt so devoid of any kind of emotion that he didn't even feel real anymore. It was an exhausting game of jumping between the two extremes, between feeling too much and feeling nothing at all. He felt sure that it was killing him, little by little, each day.

And yet he _still_ couldn't face going back home. Seeing his dad like that, all drunk and deranged and pissed off, was infinitely worse than the utter isolation of living on the streets. It was destroying him to see his father ruin what other kids so easily took for granted - a family, a home, the suburban comfort of a middle class life. He wondered what it was like to have parents that didn't even drink at all, and it was such a foreign concept that he could barely get his head around it.

His stomach rumbled loudly and he closed his eyes in exhaustion, wishing he'd been able to eat more at lunch. Cafeteria food was disgusting, but he wasn't at all picky.  While he'd kill for a hamburger and fries, he'd settle for literally anything that would give him a bit of energy. Resigned to another restless night of tossing and turning, he began to unload his belongings onto the floor, creating a makeshift bed out of his coats and clothes so that he had something soft to rest his back on.

He was just about to lie down when he heard it, the definitive sound of harsh footsteps and heavy breathing penetrating the otherwise still and silent air. He froze and an electric jolt of panic ran down the length of his spine, all of his defenses were immediately on high alert.  Squinting into the gloom of the ever darkening evening, he was surprised to see someone's silhouette running lightly towards the underpass, headed right for him. He guessed it was a jogger, feeling his muscles relax when he realized that whoever it was likely wasn't dangerous. They'd just write him off as some dumb kid, some faceless nobody, they probably wouldn't even think twice about him as they went by. That was the best thing about being homeless - people avoided you, and that was the way he liked it. He looked away as they grew closer, biting his nails so he didn't have to make eye contact with them.

"Jughead?" Archie's voice echoed against the walls and the pounding footsteps came to an abrupt halt. He looked up so fast he felt a muscle pull in the back of his neck and his heart plummeted into his stomach. He'd never expected anything like this, he'd genuinely thought that the one thing he was safe from was his friends finding out. Shame burned hotly in the back of his throat, and he felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment.  

"Oh - uh, hey," he muttered weakly, standing up and crossing his arms over his chest. His teeth were chattering slightly and his hands were shaking due to the bitter gusts of wind that kept picking up every so often. He willed them to stop, feeling awkward as his friend stared at him in bewildered awe. He waited silently, hoping Archie wouldn't put two and two together, hoping he would be able to make up some reasonably believable excuse so that he would be left alone.

"What the hell are you doing out here, man? It's like 10pm, you should be getting home," his friend implored, and as he did so his gaze raked slowly over the mass of coats on the floor and the large rucksack that sat next to them.

"Yeah, I was going to start heading home soon," he shrugged and looked down at his scuffed shoes, hoping that he sounded casual and unbothered, though his insides were churning uncomfortably. The other boy snorted in disbelief, thick brows tugging together in skepticism.

"Yeah, it sure looked like it. What's going on, dude? No offence, but you look like shit," his voice was light but he scrutinized the other boy intensely as he spoke, taking in his dark under eye circles that looked more like bruises than anything else, the way his skin was pale and pallid, the way his clothes hung off his angular frame so that it seemed like he was drowning in them.

"Gee, thanks pal, that's really nice of yo-," he was going for some dryly sarcastic remark, only to be cut off before he'd even got the words out.

"Jughead," he paused, suspicion mounting on his face. "Something's weird with you. Something's off."

"Think that's your paranoia talking, buddy," he quipped, determinedly looking away. He tried to laugh as he said it but the sound got stuck in the back of his throat.

"Nice try. Have you had a fight with your old man or something? Look, no matter how mad he is, I'm sure he wouldn't want you out here all night. I'll even walk you back, if you want," Archie offered, and despite the fact that he was smiling, there was a look of barely concealed concern etched underneath. He couldn't even remember the last time somebody had looked at him like that, the last time somebody had actually cared enough to. An aching flash of pain shot through his heart at the mere thought of it.

"No, um, you don't have to do that. It's not - I just - It's just," he stuttered, and to his horror found that a lump had risen in his throat. The utter exhaustion that had been creeping up on him for weeks finally enveloped him completely, and tears burned warmly against the insides of his eyes. He backed away from the other boy slightly, numbly hoping that it was too dark for him to see what was happening, wishing he was strong enough to keep up some kind of front.

"Jug?" he heard the other boy ask, and his tone was inflected with pure shock, every trace of geniality had vanished from his voice.

"God. Shit, sorry. I'm okay, just give me a minute, it's fine," he muttered despondently, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his quivering hands. He was white hot with anxiety, and his chest felt like it had been filled with bits of broken glass. Wanting the earth to open up and swallow him whole, he found the courage to meet his friend's eyes, which were wide and alight with total alarm.

"Tell me what's going on," Archie demanded, and there was heat in his voice but no fire. Police sirens wailed distantly in the background and the darkness of the night pressed in on them from all sides, only broken by the ghostly full moon that peaked out from behind inky, purple clouds.

"Nothing. Honestly, just leave it."

"Don't do that, don't bullshit me. We've been friends since we were five, you think I don't know when you're lying to me?" he questioned incredulously, and a flicker of hurt flitted across his face. Guilt bit heavily at Jughead's stomach, poisonous and unforgiving and everything he never wanted to be. He slid down the wall so that he was sitting against it again, knees pulled tightly into his chest, his shoulders slumping in defeat. His friend joined him almost immediately. His face was unusually drawn and serious in the glow of the pale moonlight.

"I haven't been living at home," he explained, and his voice cracked with the effort it took to admit it out loud. There was a beat of deafening silence, the only sound being the hum of the highway in the distance and the low whistle of the sharp, unrelenting breeze. He couldn't find it in him to look at the other boy, to look at anything but a solitary ant that was scuttling across the floor next to him.

"Then where _have_ you been living?" he replied after a while, sounding simultaneously strained and wary, like he knew what was coming but didn't want to believe it. Jughead swallowed harshly, running a nervous hand through his dark and unkempt hair, clearly trying to stall the inevitable. He knew it was fruitless, though. He knew that he would never hear the end of it, but for once his only choice was to tell the truth, which turned out to be harder than he'd ever expected it to be.

"I was at the school for a while, I guess. And now I'm just here and there," he confessed, grabbing a coat and wrapping it around his shoulders as the wind made its presence known once again.

"You were at the school for a while?" Archie repeated slowly, like he couldn't quite believe his ears.

"Yeah. It was better there. Warmer, at least. And there was food," he responded, trying to keep the wistfulness out of his tone. The hunger pangs in his stomach had turned into full-on, piercing cramps and he tried in vain not to think about them, knowing he wouldn't have anything to eat until lunch the next day. He drained the last of his water from the flask in his bag, trying to distract himself from the situation at hand.

"Jesus _christ,_ Jughead! Do you hear yourself? Why didn't you tell me? I could've helped you man, I could've done _something."_

"I didn't tell anyone, Arch. I couldn't. My dad -," he hesitated, regret seeping into his heart as soon as the words had passed his lips. The other boy watched him closely, comprehension dawning behind his eyes, and made a small noise of understanding in the back of his throat.

"What, Jug? What's he done now?" he pressed and his words were dripping with consideration and empathy, because he _knew._ More than anybody else, he knew the type of man Jughead's father was, had witnessed it first hand when they were kids.

"Nothing," he sniffed, digging his nails into the palm of his hand. "Well, he fell off the wagon, I suppose. He's drinking a lot. More than before."

"That's not nothing, you know it's not," Archie responded, and the pity in his gaze made the other boy want to throw up.

"It's okay. Seriously, it is. I'm doing alright. I'm figuring things out," he insisted, his gaze glued to a subway wrapper that was trailing along the ground, caught up in the wind.

"Exactly who are you trying to convince, me or you?"

"Look, it's getting kind of late. Your dad will be wondering where you are, you should probably get going. Can you like, not tell anybody about this? Please? I'm sorting it out," he tried not to sound irritated but he was growing too tired to even focus on the conversation, all he wanted to do was curl up under his clothes and try and get a few hours of much needed rest. It was too much to deal with, the constant grind of always _needing_ something - whether it was food, or a place to sleep, or a roof over his head. Drifting off into a land of unconsciousness sounded like heaven, not having to think would be pure bliss.

"You're ridiculous, Jug," his friend scowled and shook his head in apparent amazement, glaring at the other boy in wonder.

"What?"

"You honestly think I'm just going to leave you out here? Yeah, right. _Sure_. You're actually ridiculous, dude," he responded, unable to keep a hint of exasperated amusement out of his voice, though his expression was stern.

"What the fuck do you mean? I can't just come and live with you."

"Well, why not?" Archie challenged, studying his friend carefully as his ginger hair ruffled slightly in another gentle breath of wind.

"Dude, no. I appreciate it, I really do, but I'm not going to make you do that for me, okay?" Jughead muttered lowly, looking away so his face was concealed in shadow.

"You're not _making_ me do anything, you're my best friend and I'm not leaving you. It's as simple as that," he shrugged, as if it wasn't a big deal at all, like they were talking about the weather or what they'd had for breakfast.

"It's not as simple as that."

"It could be," he retorted, but there was a pang of desperation in his tone. "Please, man? You need to be somewhere safe. This isn't right. Anything could happen to you out here."

"Does it matter?" he deflected, wishing he had a better argument. 

"Don't be stupid. Don't even say that," Archie glowered at him, an edge of warning in his voice.

"Well, what about your dad? You think he's just going to let me move in?" Jughead snorted. Something peculiar stirred deep inside of him as he began to think about what it would be like to live with the Andrews, to have an actual bed to sleep in and food whenever he wanted it. It felt like some kind of inconceivable daydream, he didn't want to get his hopes up and believe that it could actually come true, only to end up disappointed once more. He wasn't ever going to fall for something like that again.

"When he finds out your on the streets he's going to flip, Jug. Of course he'd let you stay."

Unable to find another excuse, he rested his chin onto his knees and closed his eyes briefly, clenching his jaw as he thought it over. He couldn't see a downside to it, but he was sure there was one hidden somewhere. He knew that anything would be better than spending another night under the same dingy bridge and he knew that he needed help more than he'd liked to admit, but he still felt like he was imposing. He still felt like he was just some useless burden that was bringing everyone down. He opened his eyes and looked up at Archie, who quirked his mouth up into a small but comforting grin, silently begging him to say yes with his pleading gaze.

"Fuck. Okay. _Okay._ Listen, Arch. Two days tops and then I'll be out of your hair," he agreed, and the heavy pressure in his chest seemed to lessen ever so slightly, he even found that it was easier to breathe.

"Oh, shut up. You're staying as long as you need to, no questions asked," he protested as he stood up and began to stuff all of the clothes and coats back into the bag, a gleeful and triumphant gleam sparkling in his eyes.

And for some reason, something inside of Jughead finally told him not to argue or resist or to fight the help he was being offered, the help he so clearly needed. Something told him to trust the one person in the world he knew would never let him down, and it wasn't his dad or his mom or even himself - it was his friend, and that was more than enough, he just wished he'd realized it sooner.

Before he could stop himself, he flung his arms around the other boys shoulders and pulled him into a bone crushing hug, like he was a boat in the middle of a tumultuous sea, like he was his lifeline and he didn't ever want to let go. He buried his head in the crook of the Archie's neck, enjoying the comfort of not having to hide or run or defy anymore - he could finally just _be._

And finally, for the first time in a long time, he felt at home.

**Author's Note:**

> okay so i can't write for shit and this definitely isn't my best work it's fucking bad but i just watched all of the riverdale eps so far and i'm fkn in love with it so yeah!! hope you like it, please comment or give me a kudos if you do bc it really means a lot to me to know what you guys think. thanks for reading :)


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